


Silver Is More Than Oakleaves

by bafflinghaze



Series: Two Ranger Men [1]
Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halt’s cloak has been fished from the sea; his body missing. Crowley fears, and upon Gilan’s encouragement, takes off to where Halt was last seen...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Is More Than Oakleaves

**Author's Note:**

> I tried hurt/comfort, I _tried_.

Crowley first overheard it when he was in the township just outside Castle Araluen.

It was a nice day; he had done enough paperwork, and as the Ranger Commandant, decided to give himself an early finish. He had wanted to feel more than the breeze through his office window: he wanted to _move_ , stretch his legs, feel the _sun_.

It from a group of women collecting fresh water by one of the town’s fountains. He heard Halt’s name, and he was immediately interested.

‘I _heard_ ,’ one of the women said, ‘that Ranger Halt fell offa cliff.’

There was a chorus of disbelieving noises from the other women. ‘You speak lies, Dorrest,’ one of them said.

Crowley wanted to agree. It _couldn’t_ be true. Halt was one of the damn finest Rangers in the land, and Rangers did _not_ go falling off cliffs.

Dorrest shook her head. ‘Nah, me cousin’s brother just came from one of the seaside towns. One of the fishers there found a Ranger’s cloak. _But no body_.’

‘How’ya know it was a Ranger’s cloak? Ain’t ever seen one of them close up.’

‘Ey, it was all mottled and ev’rything,’ Dorrest said.

Crowley turned around. He had heard enough. For all that rangers relied on town gossip, those were lies. They _had_ to be.

But he also hadn’t received any reports or missives from Halt lately. And there was often truth in rumour. His heart thudded in his chest.

Crowley forced himself to walk calmly to the pigeon dovecote.

The woman in charge, Rosalind, came over to him immediately when he came in. ‘Ranger!’ she said, sounding relieved.

Crowley’s heart rate picked up. ‘Yes?’

‘Something has come for the Rangers,’ she said, leading him quickly to the section kept for Royal and Ranger use.

The bird was still holding the message; Crowley waited with a churning stomach for Rosalind to undo the string and finally hand into the scrap of paper.

‘Thank you. Have a good day,’ he said briskly.

Rosalind nodded. ‘Good day, sir.’

Crowley couldn’t wait to get back to his room before reading it. Instead, he unfurled the missive just out of sight of the dovecote. It was from the chief from a town Crowley remembered was by the seaside.

> Dear Ranger Commandant,
> 
> We have found a ranger’s cloak and silver oakleaf. We think they belong to Ranger Halt, because we’d called him it due to some trouble. We haven’t seen him for a few days. This is to notify that we have these items in safekeeping.

Crowley’s fingers tightened and his teeth clenched. Never. This had never happened before. This had never happened to _Halt_.

Crowley closed his eyes, his stomach turning. It _couldn’t_ be. Halt _couldn’t_ be dead. They had so much more to do, old man jokes aside.

Ranger cloak. Oakleaf separated from ranger. Not dead. The message didn’t say that Halt was dead.

Not dead, not dead, not dead.

Crowley choked. Because Halt could be _dead_. Dead and sunk at the bottom of the sea, bones broken from the fall from the cliff, body dashed on the rocks.

‘Crowley! Crowley, what’s wrong?’

Crowley jerked out of his reverie. ‘Gilan!’ He passed the missive to Gilan and swept past him.

The day no longer felt carefree. Crowley stalked back towards his office, but Gilan caught up with him before he reached it.

‘Shit, Crowley, when did you get this?’

‘Just then,’ Crowley said harshly. He couldn’t shake the frown from his face the set of his mouth, but he stopped for Gilan.

‘It _can’t_ be true,’ Gilan said earnestly.

Crowley shook his head. ‘Have you heard it too? Halt. His cloak was found in the sea,’ he said bluntly.

Gilan’s eyes widened, and his eyes flickered down to the missive again. ‘But you know Halt,’ he started tentatively. ‘If it’s his cloak, then it must be in the water for a good reason.’

Crowley turned away. Halt was great ranger, but he was also _human_ , and humans made mistakes.

‘You don’t _believe_ he’s dead, do you?’

‘I don’t know _what_ to believe.’ Crowley walked quickly back to his office, and Gilan trailed behind him.

In the office, Crowley was set on searching through all his messages and reports, trying to find any recent related to Halt. Where was he supposed to be, what he was _doing_ in that seaside town, _why—_

A slight sound made Crowley look up again. Gilan had walked right up to his desk.

‘Crowley.’

Crowley set down Halt’s last report and glared at Gilan.

‘There’s nothing you can do here. Either Halt’s dead, or he’s alive.’ Gilan gave him a solid look. ‘I’m _sure_ he’s alive.’

‘Halt’s not invincible.’

‘But—’

‘He has limitations. He’s not infallible. He’s—’ Crowley closed his eyes as his heart twisted. He clenched his teeth in effort to not break down.

Halt could be _dead dead dead_ , and yet suddenly all Crowley could think of was the stupid little box back in his chambers that held two silver rings.

Gilan put a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. ‘Crowley...’ he said softly, worry infused into his voice.

‘He’s either dead, or not, is he? I can’t do anything about it, can I?’ Crowley tried to breath deeply, but his breath stuttered. He wanted to swear, to scream out of his high office window.

‘Crowley,’ Gilan said firmly, ‘you _can_ do something. Go.’

Crowley looked at him blankly. ‘ _Go_?’

Gilan nodded. ‘Go. Go to him, where he was last seen,’ he said, waving a hand at the reports strew across Crowley’s desk.

Hope flared in Crowley’s chest before he pushed it down roughly. ‘I can’t go gallivanting whenever I _please_. As Ranger Commandant—’

‘This isn’t a normal situation,’ Gilan said flatly. ‘You’re training me to be Ranger Commandant—I can take over for a few days. I’ll think of it as practice. And if I’m terrible at it, you know definitely to find another ranger,’ Gilan ended, a little lightly.

Crowley gave Gilan a tired smile. ‘Gilan...’

‘Don’t thank me. Just, _go_. I’ll get Cropper and Blaze saddled up, get some supplies. You, go gear up.’

Crowley rolled his eyes, but inside, his felt a bubbling sensation. He was going to _do_ this.

For a brief moment, he and Gilan shared a determined look, before they both dashed off.

* * *

Day, night, the landscape flew past as Crowley moved through the countryside, alternating between Blaze and Cropper.

He reached the seaside town towards late afternoon. It was quiet, and the townspeople averted their eyes. Their town chief, the man who had written to him, handed over the ranger cloak and oakleaf, and something heavy settled in Crowley’s stomach as he confirmed that they were Halt’s.

He had one of the fishermen show him where the cloak had been found, where those cliffs of rumour were. Try as he might, Crowley could not see any body beneath the waves. But that meant nothing.

The fisherman left. Crowley started tracking, combing outwards from the cliff top.

At dusk, he found a bloodied arrow on the ground and felt a vindictive pleasure that whoever Halt had fought with, they hadn’t gotten away freely. And just before dark, Blaze found Abelard. Halt’s tent was still set up, and resigned that it was too dark to see, Crowley settled in for the night, curling up in Halt’s bedroll.

He was up again in the early morning, and headed down towards the beaches to see if anything else had washed up. Out of the trees, he could see a thin column of smoke curling up in the air, just beyond the curve of the land.

After leaving the horses a little away, Crowley strung up his bow and stalked through the cover of the trees towards the smoke.

Where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there was fire, there were people. And if _these_ were the people who had _anything_ to do with Halt’s disappearance, then—

There was only one person, stretched out on the sand beside a pitiful fire, more smoke than flame. Matt black hair and dark brown clothes. Crowley notched an arrow and moved forward.

The man turned his head, and Crowley’s heart skipped a beat.

‘Halt?’ Crowley whispered, absently putting the arrow away. He took a few steps forward, and then it became a walk, then a run, and he finally feel to his knees beside _Halt_.

‘This isn’t Araluen Castle,’ Halt said, his voice all raspy.

Crowley shook his head, a prickling in his eyes. ‘You’re alive.’

Halt’s eyes closed. ‘Water?’

‘Of course!’ Crowley put down his bow and immediately leapt back to action. He unclasped the flask at his hip and helped cradle Halt’s head as he drank. Halt’s clothing was stiff with salt, still damp from the sea. There were grazes and slashes, and rough bandages that Halt had obviously done himself.

Halt shifted, and Crowley removed the water flask.

‘Fancy seeing you out in the wild. I thought you’d retired,’ Halt said, a little smirk on his lips.

Crowley ran a hand through Halt’s hair. ‘This once _only_ , Halt.’ He moved Halt’s head off his lap. ‘Stay, I have to fetch the horses.’

Halt rolled his eyes, clearly thinking, _If I could move, then I wouldn’t be here, would I?_

Crowley didn’t have time for that. He raced back to where he left the horses and their gear. He quickly saddled them up again, and lead them across the sandy beach to where Halt lay. A quick clean and re-bandage, then Crowley had to manoeuvre Halt onto a horse and get them back to the township.

The busyness kept Crowley’s fears at bay, as Halt slipped into a raging fever.

* * *

While Crowley rushed and ordered about him, Halt dozed.

It felt too hot, and it felt too cold. Day blurred into night, and dreams blurred into consciousness. Was that Malcolm? Halt couldn’t remember.

At the times that Halt woke, Crowley was there, floating at the edge of his vision, helping him up a little to drink or eat. He held Halt’s hand silently as stitches were done. He washed him and dealt with his business.

It was a long struggle to wakefulness, but even as he did, Halt remained confined to bed. And Crowley remained at his bedside, no doubt neglecting his Ranger duties for _Halt_.

The haggardness on Crowley’s face made Halt acutely aware of his own age. Halt gave Crowley a studying look; streaks of grey more prominent than ever, lines of laughter and of frowns.

‘Thinking again, Halt?’ Crowley said gruffly.

Halt gave Crowley a dry look. ‘My cloak?’ he diverted.

Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘As though that’s the most important thing at the moment.’ Nonetheless, he momentarily disappeared from Halt’s view and returned with a folded cloak and silver oakleaf resting on top.

Halt raised his hands expectantly. ‘Give it here. I’m not going to shatter in the breeze.’ As Crowley scowled and handed back to him his things, Halt added, ‘And if anyone is going to die first, it’ll be you.’

It was a familiar joke between them, especially when both gained grey hairs, but this time, Crowley didn’t laugh it off. Instead, his scowl deepened. ‘It sure looked like you were trying to prove us both wrong, trying to hit the ditch first,’ Crowley said darkly. ‘What were you thinking, trying to follow them onto the _water_?’

‘I’m a _ranger,_ ’ Halt said, wincing as a headache built up. He closed his eyes. ‘Don’t argue,’ he muttered.

‘You _stubborn—_ ’ Crowley descended into a grumble. He said something more, but Halt couldn’t hear.

However, he felt Crowley touch his hand. Halt frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

He opened his eyes, yanking his hand back from Crowley’s grip. Something sparkled on his ring finger.

Crowley smiled, blasé. ‘We’re now engaged. Congratulations, Halt.’

Halt drew his hand closer, and there was a thin silver band. ‘You’re _serious_.’

Crowley proffered his own hand, which was wearing an identical ring. ‘Rangers are always serious.’

‘Except _you_ ,’ Halt muttered. He studied the ring despite himself. ‘When did you get these made?’ Halt’s eyes narrowed as he turned his gaze to Crowley. ‘And how did you get the right size?’

Crowley smiled. ‘I’m a ranger.’ He leaned forward, brushing some hair from Halt’s forehead.

Halt sighed and let his hand drop. ‘Men cannot get married.’

‘And women could not be rangers, but look where we’re at now.’

Crowley shifted Halt over on the bed, to Halt’s displeasure, until he realised that Crowley meant to lie down next to him.

For a few minutes, they lay there in silence.

‘You’re organising it then,’ Halt said gruffly.

‘Oh, _me?_ I know nothing about wedding celebrations. I’ll ask Lady Pauline.’

‘ _No_ , Crowley,’ Halt growled.

‘And how about it? We’ll get Will to sing Greybeard Halt, instead the usual wedding themes. It’ll be a truly ranger wedding.’ Crowley started laughing to himself.

Halt started to scowl, but Crowley’s laughter made him roll his eyes instead.

‘Sentimental,’ Halt said with a sigh.

Crowley grinned. He ran his fingers through Halt’s hair. ‘And you’re going to get a haircut.’ He curled his arms around Halt's body, cuddling him.

 _Now_ Halt scowled. ‘If I am, then so are _you_.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ Crowley’s smile widened, and he dropped a kiss on Halt’s lips.

Halt automatically grumbled. He shifted in the circle of Crowley's arms but they eventually settled in for a nap, together.


End file.
